Our Fall from Promise
by Try Crying
Summary: Aldaire had always been unsettled by the Jedi Order. Frankly, the fact that they can't handle themselves made them seem kind of useless. When she gets a better offer, there's no reason for her not to take it.
He stood at the right side of the empty throne. The Emperor's Wrath, Shadowkiller, Jedi-Slayer, Lord, Darth – Kyerian had had many names, many titles, all garnered over 300 years of service to his Emperor. Most of them had already been forgotten if he was honest with himself. This far into his service, only his recognition as the Lord Wrath mattered. He barely even remembered to answer to his own name anymore. It sounded foreign to Kyerian's ears now, seeing as no one dared address him so familiarly.

Kyerian rolled his eyes, what did any of it matter anymore, anyway? Boredom drove his reminiscing, not any sort of sentiment. However, judging by the grinding sounds, mechanical screeches, and blaster fire, his boredom was not going to be an issue much longer.

The Jedi youngling he had encountered on Quesh has boarded his Master's ship burdened with the task of assassinating the Emperor of the Sith Empire. No small task for a teenager. It didn't matter that there was no way her skills were at the point that she could be even remotely successful. How a child – she couldn't possibly be more than nineteen standard years – thought she could kill the most powerful being in the galaxy escaped him. The most likely explanation was the Jedi arrogance coming into play, continuously passed down from Master to Padawan over millennia. It was the fault of her elders that she was a soldier in their pathetic war anyway and now they have sent her off to her death with barely a second thought.

The severed head of an Imperial Guard landed at his feet, blood splashing from the base to coat the steps of the dais.

It took significant effort for the Sith to tear his eyes away from the sight at his feet to actually look at the tiny Jedi who was currently stomping into the throne room. All in all, it was a spectacular entrance, but it was nothing that he himself hadn't done before.

"Jedi."

"Sith."

"I'm impressed."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Frankly, I had expected the honour guard to have killed you already."

"You underestimate your enemies."

"I simply overestimated them." He ran a hand through his short, dark hair as she snorted at him before dropping it to rest on one of his lightsabers. "You've been trained well."

The child grimaced at that, "Whatever you say."

Kyerian cocked an eyebrow in amusement, "Poor teacher?"

"You have no idea."

That brought a genuine smile to his face. "Most Jedi are. Something tells me your Master in particular has failed you in the grandest way. I can sense your potential, youngling, but you have yet to begin to use it appropriately."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least, my Lord." The girl clicked off her green lightsaber and clipped it to her utility belt, "He refused to teach me anything of interest, or well, not."

"If you had been born on Korriban, your life would've played out much more spectacularly." He quipped, voice all sharp, Imperial consonants.

"Most days I wish I had been."

This Jedi was just full of surprising remarks, wasn't she? She had managed to capture his interest where most just failed spectacularly, "What are you called?"

The Knight didn't hesitate, "Aldaire."

"Kyerian." He refused to do her the disservice of his refusal to reciprocate, "Have you ever thought about converting to the Dark Side?" Normally, the Sith Lord would never dare stick his neck out like this, but she just had so much potential. It would be a great shame to waste all of that sweet, sweet hatred.

"I-"

"She would never join the likes of you, you reject pile of filth!"

The way she grimaced and rolled her eyes at the old man's insult was just so telling of her answer that he had to laugh. It rang out bright and loud around the cavernous room, causing the collection of Masters to glance his way in confusion. Oh, Kyerian's Master was going to kill him for this, but the pale man couldn't help it. The sound was bubbling up out of his throat and he couldn't stop.

The old man in the middle looked at him in disgust, "Do you find your situation funny?"

"Absolutely hilarious." He drawled.

"We're here to kill your Master, Sith."

"I suppose you're welcome to try."

"This station shall be your grave."

"For some reason, I sincerely doubt that."

"I didn't think slaves were allowed to think for themselves."

"Hah," Kyerian barked, "The only slaves here are those who call themselves Jedi. And no one's dying here today, which happens to be extremely unfortunate for the three of you."

"Three?" His wrinkled face pulled itself even further back, "There are four of us here to face you."

The young Lord was disappointed. In all his many centuries of life, he had encountered many great and powerful people who had the misfortune of being taken by the Jedi Order before they were old enough to walk. Obviously, this man in particular was exactly where he belonged. "And yet only three of you will spend the last years of your miserable lives regretting your choice to 'storm the castle', so to speak."

"What does a child like you think you can do to challenge Masters of the Light?"

Frankly, there was only so many insults that Kyerian could stomach on a daily basis and the imbecile in front of him had exhausted all of the ones he was allotted. "I may physically be nineteen, but I am 397 years old. Trust me when I say that you're the one who's centuries too early to challenge me. Besides, have you no idea that one in your numbers has already been consumed by the Dark Side? It strikes me as odd that none of you noticed considering how obvious the corruption makes itself." He grinned as he gestured to his face, where the corpselike mask had very blatantly affected his appearance, "I know one of your order has." How none of that brought any clarity astounded Kyerian further, his faith in the famed Jedi knowledge dwindling the longer he was forced to hold this conversation. The only person he cared to converse with was the young Knight in front of him.

And her smug smile had him grinning back at her. Aldaire understood what he was reaching for and he could feel her pleasure at the idea.

"He means me, you force-forsaken idiots."

"Aldaire? What are you talking about?" The female alien was glancing at her with horror in her eyes.

"Really, Leeha? I knew you weren't exactly bright, but I wouldn't have guessed you were this slow."

The Jedi – Leeha, he supposed – just gaped at the woman in front of her, "How? When did this happen?"

"Try the day I arrived on Tython and you idiots had someone who wasn't even a full Padawan yet clean up your damn messes for you. The whole thing was about finally feeling good, feeling like I actually mattered, because, well, why the hell not?"

There was a light 'thud' behind Kyerian and he turned to face the Emperor, "I didn't expect that our plan would turn out so well, Master."

The wrinkled, bandaged face of Vitiate stretched into an awkward approximation of a smile, "I didn't either, my boy. However, this shall definitely play into our favour in the future." He turned away from his student and stepped forward to stand in front of his throne, "Ahem."

All the Jedi turned to face him almost immediately, shock and fear playing on their faces. They were so very afraid of the being in front of them that it was almost painful. Except for Aldaire. She just looked…excited.

"Aldaire Lowe, please step up here, child. I want to get a good look at you."

She moved up to stand in front of the leader of the Sith Empire. Her bravery would have astounded the Lord Wrath, but through their short conversation, he had come to expect the unexpected. Aldaire walked right up to the base of the dais and gracefully dropped to kneel before her new ruler.

"Your highness."

Vitiate chuckled darkly, "At least you were raised with manners, even if your counterparts were not."

"Thank you, your highness."

They waited another moment, the Sith standing and the Jedi waiting, until the Emperor cleared his throat, "I sense amazing potential in you, my girl. I'm as impressed as my protégé at your skill and, more importantly, your hatred."

She grinned brightly, not looking up from the ground.

"Very well, I give my Wrath permission to train you as sith."

"Thank you, your highness/my Emperor." They chorused.

His Master nodded to him and Kyerian turned to his new student – not apprentice, not yet as she had yet to pass her trials on Korriban – and proceeded to give her her first task. "Aldaire, capture your former comrades for me, would you?"

"Of course, Master. As you wish."

Kyerian was glad he hadn't blinked because he would have missed the following events. Aldaire moved. She had been standing a good thirty feet away from the Jedi group and in less than a second, she was slashing at the chest of the younger, male Jedi. The sith-in-training made such short work of her victims that it almost wasn't worth watching. Within the span of two minutes, all three Masters were lying unconscious, in a heap, at his feet.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun.

"Excellent, youngling. Now follow me." He turned to walk away and she fell into step easily by his side, "Good work, child. There's hope for you yet."

Aldaire just smiled.

* * *

Kyerian and Aldaire are my characters in SWTOR, but I don't own any of them. As always, nothing but the plot is mine.

Word Count: 1,615


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